Maybe its Something
by LavenderBunnies
Summary: " I saw them standing there pretending to be just friends, when all the time in the world could not pry them apart" -Brian Andreas A one shot about socks and spiders and blueberries and floral shirts and little things that all add up into something.


"I saw them there pretending to be just friends, when all the time in the world could not pry them apart"

-Brian Andreas

It's _always_ the little things that count. Always. Little things that are completely insignificant when compared to the grand scheme of life. Little things that are honestly just an unnoticed blip on the metaphorical radar.

Little things like how Nick somehow has her favorite carrot cake recipe memorized down to a t, or how Judy can often be found wiping at his badge or straightening his collar while lecturing him about cleanliness as he grins at her and pretends not to listen even though he is.

He usually gets punched afterwards.

Little things like the ever-growing collection of scarves and socks and hats that slowly find their way into Nick's apartment (none of which belong to him). And the section in the back of Judy's closet specially reserved for Nick's gaudy floral shirts that are somehow always left behind after one of their impromptu sleepovers, in which they sit on the rabbit's tiny bed and watch cheesy rom coms (usually Judy's pick) or unrealistic cop shows (also Judy's pick)on her laptop until one in the morning.

Small, insignificant things like all the spiders that her kills for her after watching her leap from table top to table top trying to avoid the scurrying eight legged demon from hell. Sometimes she helps. Most of the time she's too busy trying to climb on top of the fridge for safety. Or the blueberries her parents send him on a weekly basis because they were grateful that their daughter had someone to look after her in the big city. They still didn't completely trust him. He still tries his best anyway.

Little, Insignificant things like blueberries and spiders and socks and floral shirts that don't seem to matter but always do.

Its things like the fact that Judy had moved in with the fox a few months ago because

"I won't have to drive halfway across town just to wake you up every morning and besides your place is just so much closer to the station anyways"

And the fact that he had complained and complained because this would mean she would probably be waking him up at the crack of dawn (not like she didn't do that already) but agreed anyway.

And the fact that one cold winter's night, Nick had crept into her room and hopped into bed with her and hasn't slept in his room since because

"C'mon Carrots just think about it! If I sleep with you we wouldn't have to turn up the heat in my room and we wouldn't have to wash an extra set of bed sheets which would be saving us quite a bit of money."

And the fact that she had rolled her eyes and laughed but let him climb in with her anyway.

And even though Nick is probably the cleverest con man to ever walk the streets, he still hasn't noticed the little things.

And even though Judy is a great cop and an even better detective, she still hasn't noticed the little things.

But little things add up over time and they form a bigger _something_. Something new and unknown and, honestly, a bit terrifying. Something that is delicately balanced on the edge of friendship and a sweeter, more intimate bond that neither of them really wanted to address.

Because you can't just lean in and casually kiss your partner on the cheek one night before bed since you were pretty sure she was already asleep and wouldn't know, without crossing the edge; nor can you get jealous of that pretty little vixen who is currently chatting up a storm with your best friend (because she's obviously flirting with him and he can do so much better and she's been here for at _least_ ten minutes and _please_ just leave and sweet peas and carrots why is she still talking just shut up),without crossing the edge.

Because you're blushing like a kit with a middle school crush and your face is burning brighter than a thousand suns when she opens her eyes and smiles warmly at you, still very much awake.

"Love you too, Nick."

Thank God for red fur.

Because you're secretly overjoyed when he finally ends the conversation with an alarmingly professional "good day" and a smile as he walks away with his paw comfortably on _your_ shoulder as if it belongs there.

"Who was she?"

"You know what? I _really_ don't know, and honestly, I really don't care. "

And she cares that he doesn't care and maybe that should mean something but it doesn't. Or maybe it does but its meaning has just been lost in translation.

They are swimming in dangerous waters, treading in a field of invisible land mines, teetering back and forth on the unsteady edge made up of many little things and that one big, unidentified _something_.

But in the end, he still cooks and she still cleans and he kills her spiders and she gets him blueberries. And he always kisses her when he thinks she isn't watching and she always rolls her eyes at overly flirty vixens and the right side of the bed is still his and the left side hers. Although, the debate for custody of the warmest blanket is still inconclusive.

Just normal best friend things.

…

 _Definitely_ normal.

(Maybe not so normal because when have Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde ever been anywhere close to normal? But maybe that's okay, maybe that's just the way it is meant to be.)

And so that certain something remains a safely guarded, untouched subject, carefully balanced on the unavoidable edge as they enjoy the comfortable simplicity of the little things together.


End file.
